


Battlefields and Blood

by hanged_albatross



Category: Campaign (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, I just want Bacta to be happy, So what do I do?, blood tw, death tw, write angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 06:30:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9807317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanged_albatross/pseuds/hanged_albatross
Summary: When Tamlin accidentally hurts himself, Bacta is the one to pick up the pieces. But playing medic usually brings up old memories he'd rather forget.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've ever published! I know its not that good... but I really enjoy Campaign and there is a severe shortage of fics. Enjoy!
> 
> (Update: I literally wrote this over a year ago, and just went back and rewrote it. Its crazy how much someones writing can change over a year)

Bacta hadn’t been gone for long - an hour, at most. After another sleepless night, he had decided to take a quick stroll into a nearby town for some much needed ammo and food that wasn’t powdered eggs. As the clone returned to the Mynock, he was satisfied with the two heavy bags tucked under his arms but still felt uneasy. It was a feeling that had followed him around all morning. 

_ There were one to many Imperials for a settlement of that size,  _ he thought,  _ I’ll have to get Tryst to plot a course for- _ . His train of thought came to a halt as soon as his foot touched the boarding ramp.  _ Something is wrong.  _ After five years as part of the crew of the Mynock, Bacta had developed a sixth sense for when things weren’t quite right aboard. He dropped the bags and raced onto the ship proper, blood pounding in his ears. 

 

Bacta froze at the chaotic scene was unfolding around of him.  

 

Tryst, who was wearing his obnoxious kimono held together by his belt that holstered a blaster, had a handful of bloody rags pressed against Tamlin’s face. The boy was crying and trying to wrench away, but Lyn was gently but firmly holding his shoulders. They had seated him on the kitchen table, but that didn’t stop the large, black vornskr from trying to get to his best friend. 

     “Tony, go away!” Tryst yelled, using one foot to try and push him down. 

Tony growled and bit down on the edge of Tryst’s robe, pulling as if it were a tug-of-war game. It moved the fabric into a very dangerous position, showing off too much thigh. 

     “Leenik, get your  _ son  _ under control!” 

The Rodian, who was rooting through Bacta’s locker, picked up a crate that was labeled ‘Grenades’ and threw them onto the ground. 

     “Hey! Don’t be mean to him,” Leenik protested, moving onto the next locker, “Tony’s just scared.” 

     Tryst made a threatening move towards the holstered blaster, “Oh, Tony should be scared.”

     “Bacta!” Lyn exclaimed as she spotted him frozen in the doorway. “Thank the force you’re back.”

     “I was gone for LESS THAN AND HOUR,” Bacta yelled over Tamlin’s crying. “What the hell happened?” 

He made his way to the child, avoiding the vornskr, and pushed Tryst out of the way. He grabbed the cloth and kept the pressure. He could still feel hot blood seeping through the cloth.

     “Uncle Bacta… It hurts,” he said between racked sobs.  

     “Listen, before you start throwing blame around, there is one thing that you should know,” Tryst said nervously. “It was Leenik who was supposed to be technically watching Tamlin.”

     “What? No way. I told you to watch the kid because I had to take Tony for his morning walk. This is all your fault.”

     “And I said I could do no such thing until I got my morning coffee. So, I guess that means it was Lyn’s responsibility?”

     “Me? Why would I-.”

     “Quiet, all of you.” Bacta demanded, feeling his blood pressure starting to spike. “Now. What. The. Hell. Happened?”

     “He went up to your crows-nest.” the Twi’lek said. “But he slipped on the ladder and hit his face.”

 

Bacta sighed and lifted the rag, ever so slightly. Blood was still flowing from Tamlin’s small nose, which now had a rather large dent in it.

     “It's not to bad, is it?” Tryst said, wringing his hands together. He had tried to force a casual tone to his voice, but it wasn’t good enough to hide the concern.

     “I’m not sure yet. Tamlin, hey, buddy,” Bacta said softly, “I’m gonna need you to hold still. I know it hurts, buddy.”

The boy sniffled but seemed to calm down a bit for the moment. His lip quivered and big, hot tears raced down his cheeks, following the dark lines of the Zabrak markings. The clone medic gently touched the boys nose and felt a break under all the swelling. Bruising had already started to form under his eyes. The purple and black was a sharp contrast to Tamlin’s pale white skin.

     “Definitely broken,” Bacta muttered. “We're gonna have to set it.”

     “Bro- broken?” Tamlin blubbered, and the sobs started back up again.

     “No, buddy, it's going to be fine, trust me!” Tryst said, “I’ve had my nose broken  _ loads  _ of times.”

     “Leenik, where’s my medkit?”

     “I don’t know- wait. Found it,” Leenik had the large white case in his hands, but his large, dark eyes seemed to get wider when he saw Tamlin. “Oh no. Thats a lot of blood. Ahhh-”

     “Leenik, focus!” Bacta snapped, taking the thoroughly soaked rag and put pressure back on the injury. How could so much blood come from such a tiny person?

     “Here you go,” Leenik walked towards the table, his eyes closed. “But I couldn’t find the bacta patches. Are we out?”

 

\-----

_      “We can’t be out of bacta.” Bacta snarled at the other medic, “We just had three shipments!”  _

_ Artillery thundered at the front lines, which was getting closer and closer with every passing minute. He could feel the light spray of dirt across his cheek every time a shell hit nearby. Over the comms, there were frequent cries for help followed by the curt response from one of the medics under his command. Bacta had learned to block out what he didn’t need to respond to. _

_ The trooper in front of him, a medic named Stitches, would jump every time a shell would hit.  _ Newbie _ , Bacta thought sourly,  _ There’s no room for that on the field today _. _

_      “We just ran out,” Stitches stuttered, “We’re taking a lot of casualties. Watch out!” _

_ A shell detonated in the forest just a few yards away, but Bacta held his ground.   _

_      “We need a medic in quadrant three,” the voice of one of his brothers cried over the comms. There was another explosion, “We need a lot of medics!” _

_ Bacta took a deep breath- the pressure on the battlefield had never gotten to him before. When things were at their worst is when he could think the clearest. That's what he was bred for. _

_      “Grab whatever is left in the kits and three more medics,” he said, then marched over to one of the many canvas tents that had been set up.  _

_ Inside each tent was around a hundred clones. The smell of death was heavy in the air, and he watched as one of his brothers gave a low groan before going absolutely still. His body was hastily moved from the cot as another one of the injured was picked up from the ground and put in his place. Cold, calculating medics. Good soldiers.  _

_ Bacta reached into his side pouch and pulled out medical scissors, and started cutting through a small section of the canvas. He slashed long strips until he was sure he had enough, then bundled it up and handed them to Stitches. The newbie had at least followed orders and grabbed three more brothers, each equipped with the last of the medical supplies.  _

_      “Carry this,” Bacta said curtly, shoving the cloth into Stitches hands. He grabbed a rifle that was laying on the ground, and checked the ammo pack. Half full. It would have to do. “Let's move out.” _

_      “ _ _ Lieutenant _ _ , what are we doing? We have no supplies! We can’t help anyone-”  _

_      “Quiet, soldier. We're just going to have to do this the old fashioned way.”  _

_      “Bacta.” There was the low cry from one of this brothers over the comm, “Bacta, help us. Bacta, please. Bacta- _

_ \----- _

 

     “Bacta!”

The clone’s head snapped up and he regained his bearings. This wasn’t the battlefield. This was his home. He was still aboard the Mynock.  

      Tryst, who had been calling out his name, laid a hand on Bacta’s shoulder. “You okay?”

     “Fine, soldi- I mean, Tryst.” he grumbled and shook his head, trying to break free from the haze.

Bacta, however, wasn’t so out of it that couldn’t see Lyn and Tryst exchanged a concerned look.

     “I’m fine.” he repeated and opened up his medkit. He removed a small flashlight and held it in front of Tamlin. “Follow the light with your eyes. Can you do that for me?”

     “Yeah, Uncle Bacta.” the kid whimpered. Bacta could tell he was attempting to put on a brave face.

He passed the light in front of the Tamlin’s face, and grimaced as his dark eyes would track the light for a second before jumping back.

     “Damn it,” Bacta said, “Kid’s got a concussion.” He felt a rather surge of emotions through his chest. “I should’ve never left you three with him alone.”  

     “What's a ‘cussin?!” Tamlin cried, “Am I going to die? Uncle Lyn!”

     The Twi’lek pulled the Zabrak child into a half hug, being careful not to move him to much. “No, darling. You will be fine. Uncle Bacta’s going to fix you up.”

     The medic nodded. “First thing, we need to set it. Leenik-”

He looked down to see that the Rodian was sprawled out, unconscious, on the floor. Tony was licking at his face, letting out a low whine. Bacta rolled his eyes. What type of bounty hunter couldn’t handle a little blood?

     “Nevermind. Lyn, check the cockpit. There should be a small bacta kit under the co-pilot seat. It’s the emergency stash.”

     “Okay. I’ll be right back Tamlin.”

     “Tryst, I need you to hold him.”

     “M‘kay.”

     “Now, Tamlin.” Bacta switched to his matter-of-fact voice that he often used when talking to the kid. “I’m always honest with you, right? I always tell you how it is?”

     He nodded, “Yeah.”

     “Now, I’m telling you the truth when I say that this is gonna hurt. A lot. But only for a second. Okay? If I don’t fix it now, it's just going to hurt more and more.”

     Tamlin’s bottom lip started to quiver, but Tryst quickly jumped in, “If you let Uncle Bacta do this, I’ll get you ice cream. A whole freezer full!”

     That seemed to calm the kid down. “P- promise?”

     “Of course! When has your Uncle Tryst ever lied to you?” Tamlin opened his mouth to respond, but Tryst interjected. “Don’t answer that.”

     “Found the kit!” Lyn exclaimed, coming back into the kitchen, “Here you go Bacta.”

     “All right. Tamlin, are you ready?”

     “Uncle Bacta,” the kid whispered, and the clone had to lean in to hear what was being said. “I’m scared.”

     “It’ll be okay, buddy,” he said softly, giving Tamlin’s shoulder a little squeeze. “You’ll look pretty damn ugly for the next few weeks, but you’ll be okay.”

Tamlin giggled, and gave a small nodd.  

     “Tryst, you ready?” The pilot nodded, and put a hand on Tamlin’s chest to keep him in place. “Lyn, get ready to hand me that bacta patch.”

She nodded. Bacta took a deep breath and removed the rags. He then placed his hands gently in either side of Tamlins nose. Bacta frowned as he could feel his fingers start to shake ever so slightly.  

     “One. Two-,” he quickly jerked the nose so it was aligned with the chin and he felt a small  _ pop _ .

Tamlin went rigid as a fresh surge of blood poured out, then wailed in pain.

 

\-----

_ The trooper sprawled out in front of him scream was cut short as Bacta gave the canvas around his leg another swift tug. It was more of a strangled choking sound before the tourniquet was fully applied.  _

_      “Sorry ‘bout that mate,” Bacta apologized, “But you’ll thank me when you have both of your legs.”  _

_ The shrapnel had gone straight through the soldier's leg, hitting a major artery along the way. Quadrant three was in such disarray, the clones had resorted to hiding in deep trenches that had been left over from the war that had previously plagued this planet.  _

_      “Thanks,” his brother managed to get out between gritted teeth.  _

_      “Quadrant three is being overrun,” one of his commanders ordered over the comms, “Grab the any wounded and retreat.” _

_      “Copy,” Bacta said, “Let's move out.” He looked down to the trooper, “Are you okay to be moved?” _

_      “Yeah- look out!” _

_ A battle droid’s cold, coppery face looked down into the trench and it raised its rifle. Bacta dove to the side, but the machine managed to get four shots before he brought up his own weapon up and sent a blast through the head. _

_      Bacta exhaled shakily, and turned to his brother. “You ready, soldier?” _

_ There were three holes in the white chestplate and no response. _

_      “Damn it,” he murmured, and a part of him thought ‘waste of supplies.’ No. Not part of him. Part of his programming. _

_ Bacta looked down at his gloves, which were soaked with blood. His hands started trembling as he heard the mechanical steps get louder, and louder. The screams of the soldiers who couldn’t get out- _

_ \----- _

 

But it wasn’t his brothers who were weeping. It was Tamlin. Not knowing how long he zoned out for this, Bacta quickly took one of the bacta patches from Lyn and pressed it against the child's face. Within seconds the bleeding slowed to a stop, and Tamlin’s cries became softer as the pain lessened.

     “There, Tamlin. How does that feel?” his voice was hoarse.

     “Better… Uncle Bacta, I feel dizzy.”

      “ ‘cause of all the blood you lost,” Bacta said coldly, then caught himself, “But you were so brave. Lyn, could you get him some water?”

The Twi’lek nodded, filled up a glass at the sink, and handed it to the child. ‘ _Slowly_ ’ he warned as Tamlin took a big gulp. Lyn had also grabbed a fresh rag and was fussing as she cleaned the blood from around his face.

Bacta nodded at his work, and stepped back. He was careful to avoid Leenik and that stupid vornskr as he walked to the fresher. He turned on the warm water and started to wash the blood from his hands. When he took them from underneath the tap, they were shaking violently. The floor seemed rock back and forth now, the air was getting heavier, he couldn’t breath-

The door suddenly slid open and Tryst was standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

     “Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” Bacta growled, struggling to regain his composure. “What do you want?”

     “I need to know that you’re okay. Before you walk back out there. Because you kinda freaked Tamlin out. Hell, you freaked me out a bit. When you spaced out...”

     “I’m fine. Don’t know what you mean.” Bacta tried to step past the pilot but for such a lanky person, Tryst did a hell of a job blocking the exit.

     “No, you’re not, and yes, you do,” Tryst rebutted, pointing to Bacta’s hands. “You spaced out there pretty badly. What if it had been worse? What if we had been in combat? Listen, we’re worried-”

     “Oh, I’m sure if it had been worse you would've used the lightsaber to cauterize the wound,” Bacta snapped.  

     Tryst rolled his eyes, “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

     “You held a lightsaber to a child’s neck!”

     “That's besides the point.”

     “That's exactly the point!”

     “Bacta, pal, go take a break. Lyn and I got this. You look like shit.”

Bacta couldn’t help but look at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. His eyes looked sunken in, and beads of sweat had formed at his temples.

     “I don’t take break.”

He tried to sidestep the pilot, but Tryst just cocked his hip. The kimono rode up dangerously on his thighs, although Bacta noted that the white and pink fabric that Tryst liked to keep immaculate had blood splattered on the sleeves and across the front.

     “Go do some chin-ups. Or pushups. Or whatever. Because you’re the person who’s supposed to handle these situations. Leenik can’t. I sure as hell can’t. Lyn… well, Lyn is actually the most level headed out of all of us. But you’re supposed to keep your cool!”

     “You’re right,” Bacta said softly.

     “I am? I mean, of course I am.”

     “Just give me a minute. I’ll be okay.”

Tryst narrowed his eyes, trying to size up the situation. With whatever conclusion the pilot reached, he nodded, turned around, and closed the door. The moment it shut, Bacta sat down on the cold metal floor and put his forehead on his knees, trying to regulate his breathing. When this happened, when the past visited him, he could usually shrug it off. But seeing Tamlin there, bleeding and in pain…  A minute passed. Two. Five. Ten...

 

_ \----- _

_      “I can’t believe we won,” Stitches said, surveying all the carnage. For every one clanker down, there were five clones. Supplies had come with the reinforcements, but to little too late. _

_ The medical unit had just finished their last sweep of the battlefield, finding the last of the living. The last transport ship was humming a few feet away, ready to leave.   _

_      “You call this a win?” Bacta laughed dryly, “We would all the dead if the 501st hadn't come in and bailed us out.”   _

_      “But, we’re alive.” Stitches sounded dazed as they passed a twisted monument of their victory- droid heads stuck onto pikes where the command tent had been an hour before. _

_       Bacta just shook his head.“That's not a victory. It's just a perk.” _

\-----

 

Bacta pulled himself to his feet and left the fresher, not really knowing how much time had passed. His hands had stopped trembling so badly, and he was happy to see the situation out in the kitchen had gotten better. Leenik was up, sitting far away from Tamlin and the blood, happily scratching behind Tony’s ears. The vornskr let out a small growl as the clone passed, but it had seemed to calm down. 

Tryst and Lyn had cleaned Tamlin up, gotten the blood from his face and into a clean shirt. The Zabrak child was sitting at the vinyl booth, glasses of water and a bowl of ice cream in front of him.

     “Uncle Bacta,” Tamlin said, sounding in better spirits than he had before. “My face still hurts!”

     “Well, buddy, it's going to be sore for a bit.”

     Lyn gave Bacta a look and said, “You good?”

     Bacta nodded and mouthed, “I’m good,” then turned to everyone else, “But the kid’s managed to get himself concussed. That means we need to wake him up every hour or so to check on him. Make sure his brain’s not doing anything weird.”

     “For how long?” Lyn asked.

     “48 hours. Or 72, to be on the safe side. Thats if it doesn’t get any worse.”

     “What does ‘cussed mean?” Tamlin asked again, between bites of his ice cream.

     “It means you broke your brain,” Tryst said matter of factly.

     “My brain is broken?!”

     “No, its not broken. It's just bruised,” Bacta shot Tryst a dirty look. “I’ll handle waking the kid up. Not like I need sleep anyway.”

 

Everyone nodded in agreement, and then slowly went back to what had previously occupied their time before this debacle. But Bacta stayed with Tamlin, running different tests on him every so often. The results on the medical datapad confirmed his diagnostic, and gave him a bit of comfort. It could've been a lot worse. 

     “Hey, Uncle Bacta?”

     “Yeah kid?”

    “Thank you.”

     A small smile came to his lips, “No problem, buddy. It's my job.”   

     “If it’s your job, why were you scared?”

     Bacta looked up from the medical datapad, “What do you mean?”

     “I could, I could feel it through the force. You were scared looking at the blood, but not the same way Uncle Leenik was. Or the way that Uncle Lyn and Uncle Tryst was. It was…” the little kid tried grasping for a word he just didn’t know, “It was different.”

     Bacta sighed, “What happened- it's complicated. But I promise that I’ll explain one day, okay?”

     He seemed satisfied with that answer. “Okay!”

     Bacta patted the top of his head, well, the top of his horns. “Thank you for being so brave.”

     "I’m always brave- I make brave and heroic decisions!”

     “Yeah you do, buddy.”


End file.
